Ryan narrowed his eyes slightly. It was apparent that the skull was not human. It looked more like a wolf's skull.
Every inch of it had been gnawed clean, reduced to a bleached bone with not a scrap of flesh remaining.
But the white wolf was still gnawing, and while chewing, it was staring at Ryan through the glass on the port side, as if it was gnawing at him.
Ryan's expression did not change at all. When he saw this scene, he immediately guessed how the white wolf got on the yacht.
After it escaped that day, it must have gone into Gavin Garcia's mountaintop mansion to recuperate.
There, Ryan had stockpiled a vast quantity of food—including long-lasting dried meats like beef and pork jerky.
In addition to these foods, there were also a dozen gray wolves that were killed in the explosion.
Apparently, the beast hadn't spared even its packmates' corpses to survive.
Later, as the torrential rain reached the mansion perched atop the mountain, the yachts anchored at the harbor below, at the mountain's foot, began to drift toward the mansion.
The wolf must have moved the food Ryan stored in the mansion and the remaining wolf corpses to the yacht.
At that time, the floodwaters of Regent Business Tower should have reached a height of 250 meters, given the mansion's altitude of just over 200 meters above sea level.
Yet, clever as it was, the wolf hadn't been prescient enough to stock the yacht with supplies in advance, like Ryan had.
It had probably only loaded a fraction of the food and wolf remains aboard.
After drifting in the ocean for about ten days, it finally ran out of food and had to gnaw on bones to satisfy its hunger.
After gnawing on the bone for a while, the white wolf seemed hungrier, slapping the skull aside and pouncing towards the left window.
With tremendous force, it shattered the glass—though not completely.
Enraged, it pounded the pane several more times until the left window finally gave way.
The opening wasn't large; the wolf couldn't squeeze through, even if it were fully shattered.
But this seemed to inspire the creature. Its eyes darted to the windshield ahead of the helm.
To avoid obstructing the pilot's view, the yacht's front window was far more expansive than a car's—a meter or two tall and five or six meters wide.
As long as the front window was broken, it could squeeze in.
The white wolf moved and immediately jumped to the front window of the yacht, waving its claws and slapping them down.
Bang bang bang!
The huge claws clapped one after another.
Yet to its surprise, the yacht's front window was remarkably sturdy. After a dozen strikes, only a single crack appeared—no signs of shattering.
Ryan, observing the wolf's actions, knew exactly what the beast intended. Unfazed, he leisurely retrieved another piece of beef jerky and waved it before the wolf's snout.
Grinning, he took a bite in full view of the wolf, then flung the remaining half out the left window.
The wolf watched helplessly as the jerky was swept away by the gale and vanished into the sky.
Infuriated, it began pummeling the front window in a frenzy, rearing and slamming into it.
Ryan watched as the front window of the yacht slowly cracked under the assault, and he calmly picked up the bag of food. Inside the bag were five packets of jerky, six packs of compressed biscuits, and three bottles of mineral water.
He grabbed a bottle of water, guzzled half of it, then tossed the remainder out the left window, where it was carried away by the wind.
Next, he pulled out the five packets of jerky, taking a single bite from each before discarding them through the window.
The wolf, driven to the brink of madness by Ryan's "extravagance," glared at him.
When it saw Ryan reach for the second packet, it abandoned the front window and sprinted back to the left porthole, awaiting the next throw.
After waiting a long time, it was found that Ryan had no intention of throwing it away, but had begun eating the jerky himself.
The white wolf was going crazy. It seemed to realize that Ryan had tricked it. It rushed to the front window again in a rage and started banging on it again.
Yet as it did, Ryan casually tossed another packet of jerky out the window.
The white wolf didn't fall for it this time. Instead, it fixed its gaze on Ryan and continued its assault, determined to smash through the window at all costs.
Ryan was slightly taken aback. The beast's intelligence was unexpectedly high; it had realized he was toying with it, exhausting its strength.
So the wolf was determined not to let go and was ready to break in through the window and kill him.
Amused, Ryan didn't let it bother him. He took a bite from each remaining packet of jerky and discarded them all.
In the end, only a bottle of water and a bag of compressed biscuits were left, and the rest of the food was thrown away.
Already sated, Ryan could survive the remaining ten hours without sustenance.
So carrying extra provisions would only weigh him down.
He'd never leave them for the wolf; that would be tantamount to suicide. The best solution was to jettison everything.
After nearly three months in this world, Ryan had learned to keep a backup plan. He retained one bottle of water and the inedible biscuits, just in case.
He secured the waterproof bag around his waist, ensuring it wouldn't hinder his movement. Then, gripping the fire axe, he settled in the helm doorway to rest.
While the wolf pounded away, Ryan seized the opportunity to recuperate.
Ten minutes later, the wolf finally shattered the front window and leaped through, roaring in fury.
But as it did, Ryan had already slipped out the door and slammed it shut.
The white wolf roared in extreme anger. Unable to open the door, it hurled itself against it repeatedly.
After minutes of futile effort, the door bore only dents—no cracks.
The wolf reluctantly leaped back out the front window to give chase.
To its utter despair, as it rushed out and ran to the door, Ryan reentered and slammed the door shut with a bang.
Leaning against the door, he grinned and beckoned, "Come and get me!"
The wolf, now enraged beyond reason, slashed and rammed the door with all its might, but it wouldn't budge.
After a while, the white wolf finally stopped.
Exhausted from hunger and Ryan's relentless teasing, its strength waned. And it no longer had the strength to bang on the door.
Seated in the pilot's chair, Ryan had no intention of venturing out to fight the wolf to the death. Instead, he relaxed and resumed conserving his energy.